


Unconventional

by AoiTsukikage



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Asexual Character, Asexual Relationship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-28
Updated: 2013-08-28
Packaged: 2017-12-24 22:56:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,398
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/945663
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AoiTsukikage/pseuds/AoiTsukikage
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>from a tumblr prompt that asked: I’d really like to see more asexual!Enjolras.  So anything that focuses on that :33 Preferably one-sided E/R, but requited.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Unconventional

**Author's Note:**

> I tried not to go too personal meta-y with it but some of this is definitely mirroring what people have said to me when they find out about my sexuality. Also this is modern!AU because of course asexuality wasn’t really something that was thought about much in the 1830s so it was easier to place it in a modern setting :)

“But you have to admit that it’s weird.”

“It’s not…look, just leave him be, okay?”

“Why?  What do you know?  You know something!”

Grantaire wakes up at the rather loud voices around him, raising his head and sighing when he realizes that he’s fallen asleep in one of the common study rooms.  Of course, it’s not like his friends would wake him up to have a conversation with him, they’d rather just shout to get the job done, but he’s used to that by now. 

“It’s weird, right?”

He looks up at Courfeyrac, whose eyes are gleaming in a way that tells him that it doesn’t matter if he agrees or not because _Courfeyrac_ thinks it is and that means he’s not going to let it go. 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about…”

“Enjolras.  Isn’t it strange that he’s never, you know, had a girlfriend?  Or boyfriend?  Or, well, _anybody?”_

“Maybe he’s got more important things to worry about,” Grantaire tries to sound completely disinterested, because truth be told it’s something that he’s thought long and hard about, especially as Enjolras seems perfectly oblivious to the fact that he’s, well, beautiful and attracts a lot of attention on a daily basis. 

“It’s _weird,”_ Courfeyrac says again and Grantaire’s not quite sure what he can do to get the other man to leave him alone, but luckily Feuilly steps in and shakes his head. 

“I told you, just leave it alone.  It doesn’t concern you anyway, and if it _did,_ I’m sure he’d tell you,” he sounds weary, like he’s been dealing with this for longer than anybody would want to. 

“But if…”

“He’s not in any trouble, it’s not something that…” Feuilly stops and huffs out a breath, eyes closing slowly because he knows he’s said exactly the wrong thing and Grantaire would have sympathy but, well, anything to get Courfeyrac to leave _him_ alone he’s going to be thankful for. 

“So you _do_ know!”

“Nope, not having this conversation,” Feuilly nods at Grantaire in lieu of an actual farewell and turns on his heel, walking swiftly out of the room even as Courfeyrac bounds after him, still rapidly firing questions at the other man. 

Grantaire blinks after them, contemplating just going to sleep again when he feels a slight rush of air beside him and turns slightly to see Enjolras settling into the chair next to him, his eyes on their retreating friends before he looks away and says, almost to himself, “I guess I have to tell them all.”

“Tell us what?” Grantaire says before he can help it, because honestly, being close enough to touch Enjolras is rare enough and to have him actually striking up a conversation (even if it was probably meant to be one-sided) is something essentially unheard of, but he seems in a melancholy mood and rather unlike his usual fiery self, so maybe that gives Grantaire a little bit of courage he wouldn’t have normally. 

“I’d ask you if you can keep a secret but that would imply what I’m going to tell you is shameful, and it’s not, it’s just…something I want to tell everybody by myself,” he’s speaking as if Grantaire already has half an idea of what he’s _going_ to say and the older man has to admit that he’s kind of hopelessly lost in this discussion. 

“I…I mean, I won’t tell anybody who doesn’t know,” he says slowly, because obviously there are ones who do.  “And I’m guessing you mostly mean that I shouldn’t tell Courfeyrac, even though…”

“Feuilly won’t tell him.  And neither will Combeferre, and they’re the only two right now that…” Enjolras sighs and scrubs his hands through his golden hair, mussing it slightly and making Grantaire’s fingers twitch on the tabletop because _what he wouldn’t give to be able to touch his hair like that_ but no, best not to come off as excessively creepy, especially since this is the most civil conversation they’ve ever had. 

“You can tell me,” he says instead, softly and trying to be as reassuring as he can be, although he truly has no idea what will come out of Enjolras’ mouth next.  “You can _trust me._ I know you hate me, but…”

“I don’t hate you,” Enjolras says, with just enough vehemence that Grantaire knows he’s being honest, and it makes his heart soar a little.  “I don’t, I don’t… _understand_ you, I don’t understand your outlook on life or your…unwillingness to live up to your potential, but I don’t hate you.”

“That’s good to know,” Grantaire hides his smile by ducking his head, because it doesn’t seem appropriate to gloat at the moment.  “But you were saying…”

“Yes, well, Courfeyrac’s insistence that I sleep with _somebody_ is starting to grate on my nerves, especially since it’s not going to happen.  I’m…” he closes his eyes and murmurs something to himself again before looking straight at Grantaire.  “I’m asexual.  So.”

Grantaire blinks at him, which might not be the most eloquent or appropriate response, and a tiny part of his brain is screaming at him that really all the signs have been there and it’s not the most surprising admission, but there’s another that can’t help be disappointed in knowing that…even if Enjolras ever _did_ reciprocate his feelings…it wouldn’t end up the way he’d wished it to. 

“So you…you’re not…”

“I’m not afraid of sex and I’m not a prude, I just have no interest in it.  And no, it’s not because I’m more focused on other aspects of my life, it’s just something I have no desire for and I’d really, _really_ love it if all of you…most of you…would stop acting as if I’m so strange because of it,” he sounds angry now and Grantaire reaches out a hand to placate him before snatching it back, but _that_ of all things earns him one of Enjolras’ infamous frosty glares.  “I’m not infectious.  And I don’t hate human contact.  You can touch me.”

He does, settling his hand on the other man’s forearm and feeling how tense he is even from that simple contact.  “Enjolras, I’m not going to judge you.  I mean, it’s not something I’ve thought about a lot, because I think I’ve always known…”

“Yes,” Enjolras laughs breathily.  “And maybe that’s why I trust you with this now, because for as horribly as I’ve shunned you, you still see _something_ in me that you’re attracted to, and I can’t say I understand it but I know it’s deeper than just…”

“People stopping as if they’ve run into a wall when they see you?”

“Yes.  That,” Enjolras sighs ruefully.  “So you don’t feel any differently, knowing…”

“I never thought I had a chance in the first place.  Maybe I feel better knowing that nobody else does, either,” he decides, because truth be told he’s still processing it (and he’d really, really like a drink to help him do that) but it’s not the knife to the heart he thought it would be. 

Especially since apparently revealing this to him has Enjolras treating him like a human being, almost like a friend, and that’s enough for now. 

“Combeferre said he’d always known, you know.  I guess it really shouldn’t surprise me, but I was scared to tell him and…”

“You?  Scared?” Grantaire asks before he can help himself and Enjolras gives him a smile that has his breath catching for a moment because nothing is ever going to change the fact that he’s fucking _breathtaking_ , even if Grantaire will only be able to admire that from afar. 

“It’s been known to happen.  I shouldn’t be, with him, and of course he understood and babbled some…medical things at me about how the brain works that I tuned out halfway through,” he huffs an embarrassed little laugh.  “And Feuilly, well, I know he’d never judge anybody for things they can’t control.  I just need to tell the others, but I’m…less sure about how they’ll react.”

“They’ll be fine with it.  I mean, what can they say?  Like you said, it’s not something that you can choose,” he’s starting to work through it more in his head now, and while the idea that somebody just has no sexual attraction to any other human being at all is a little hard to grasp, he’s still _Enjolras_ and there’s nothing about him that’s changed. 

“I know.  I just don’t want people telling me that…you know, I won’t know if I like sex if I haven’t had it, or that it’s a phase, or that I’m using it as an excuse to get out of looking for a relationship or settling down and…”

“Hey, I get it,” Grantaire cuts him off because he’s starting to talk loudly, the way he always does when he’s passionate or angry or upset, and this isn’t really the place for it.  He darts his eyes between Enjolras’ face and where his hand is still gripping the other man’s arm and breathes out slowly, knowing that this is taking too much of a chance but deciding to try anyway. 

He slides his hand down, resting it palm-up on the tabletop in an obvious invitation.  Enjolras looks down and then back up, meeting Grantaire’s eyes and the other man can see that in this moment he’s completely open and unguarded, and he looks apprehensive and young as he breathes out quickly and moves his own hand on top of Grantaire’s, letting their fingers lace together. 

“I can’t be what you want me to be.”

“I don’t want you to be anything but what you are,” Grantaire promises, because in that moment it’s true.  This is _everything._

“I could never…this isn’t something I’m going to grow out of.  I can’t…”

“I know,” he interrupts, because the last thing he ever wants to see is Enjolras apologizing for something that’s just a part of who he is.  “I know.  I’d never ask you for anything more than you can give me, and honestly since I never expected you to give me anything that’s more than I could have ever dreamed.  I still don’t know _why_ you’re even thinking about me in that way at all,” he might regret saying that, and he does as soon as the words leave his mouth, but Enjolras purses his lips and seems to think on that for a moment or two. 

“I meant what I said when I said that I didn’t hate you.  And also if I…if I _were_ to be sexually attracted to anybody, it wouldn’t be to any woman.  Plus, like I said, I know that you…want me for more than my body or my looks, and more than anything that’s what I need right now.  I feel like I’m using you because of it, though,” he adds softly and Grantaire shrugs. 

“You aren’t.  You have to trust me on that one,” he looks down to their joined hands and wonders when he’s going to wake up and find out this is all some elaborate dream his mind has concocted because it’s all too good to be happening.  “It’s not as if I’m, you know, that attached to sex.  I’m not Courfeyrac,” he tries to lighten the mood and Enjolras groans and slumps back in his chair.  “He’ll be okay with this.  You know he will be.  And if he’s not, I’m sure Feuilly and I can take care of him.  Or Combeferre can just babble medical jargon at him until he gives up and walks away,” he adds and Enjolras tips his head back, eyes fluttering closed and okay, this might be harder than Grantaire had originally thought because _he just wants to touch so badly_ and even if they’re…whatever they are, he still _can’t._

“What are you thinking?” Enjolras asks, and even though his eyes are closed and he’s not looking somehow he still _knows_ and that should be a little creepy but it’s really not. 

“Just…” he shifts his own chair closer and reaches out with trembling fingertips, brushing over the soft, pale skin of the other man’s throat as Enjolras makes a sound that could almost be a hum. 

“It’s not awful, you know.  Like I said, I’m not afraid of being touched, and not every touch has to be sexual in nature,” he blinks his eyes open and turns his head to the side.  “And you’re already being far more accommodating than I expected anybody to be, so you need to stop looking like you’re afraid I’m going to go off on you.  If you make me uncomfortable, I’ll tell you.  I promise,” his voice is firm and absolute and Grantaire finds himself nodding before all the words have even been processed because that’s just what Enjolras _does_ to him. 

“Okay.  Yes.  Great,” he nods quickly, feeling Enjolras’ pulse flutter under his fingers, and shifts his hand up just a little under the guise of smoothing a few wayward strands of golden hair back into place even though, well, that’s just another flimsy excuse to touch. 

“Sex and love aren’t the same thing,” Enjolras says then, but Grantaire drops his hand away for fear of moving too quickly all the same.  “I’m not incapable of the latter, you know.”

“Yeah.  I know,” he promises, because he knows that Enjolras isn’t confessing anything or even implying it, but there’s still a _chance_ and right now he’d be a fool not to take the proverbial leap.  “Can we…”

“Shit,” Enjolras sits up and pulls out his phone, which is buzzing at him.  “We’ve got a meeting in…well, now, actually, and I think…I think I’m ready.  To tell all of them.  But I’d appreciate it if you were with me,” he stands up, once more proud and tall and completely unafraid, and holds his hand out for Grantaire to take. 

Which he does, once he’s picked up his books, and he tries to not smile too widely as they walk down the hall toward the room they’re meeting in. 

It’s not exactly what he’d hoped for, and he’s still not really sure _what_ Enjolras thinks of him or how he feels toward him, but then…just because something’s unconventional doesn’t mean it can’t be _good._

And this?  He knows that, whatever this turns into, this _will_ be.


End file.
